


Bratty Pup

by UnholyPlumpPrincess



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Biting, Bloodhound Headcanons (Apex Legends), Bloodhound has a vulva (Apex legends), Bloodhound's infamous werewolf strap makes a come back, Breeding Kink, Canon Nonbinary Character, Creampie, Desperation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Fluff, Kissing, Knotting, Love Bites, Multiple Orgasms, Neck Kissing, Nonbinary Character, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Overstimulation, Pet Names, Reader has a vulva but parts are described as dick/cock/hole, Reader is gender neutral, Semi-Public Sex, Strap-Ons, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voice Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24972328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnholyPlumpPrincess/pseuds/UnholyPlumpPrincess
Summary: For someone on tumblr who wanted Bloodhound and reader with reader being a huge fucking brat to get Bloodhound to lose their cool.OrIn which you act like a brat to Bloodhound in the arena, telling them they're being bossy and saying things like "Make me." They're so patient, you just want to see them break a little bit is all. Which turns into either a win or lose situation, depending on how you feel about orgasm denial.
Relationships: Bloodhound (Apex Legends)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 98





	Bratty Pup

**Author's Note:**

> If you wanna see more of my writing, wanna ask me shit or request stuff of me, check out my tumblr @Sinningplumpprincess (MUST HAVE AGE IN BIO TO FOLLOW AND INTERACT)

You were a menace, to put it lightly.

You knew you were one, and yet, somehow, against all odds Bloodhound had still seen something in you. Something worthy to win your affection and attention over. You were glad for it; After all it wasn’t like you hadn’t been pining for them for a while. Even before you competed to enter into the games.

You suppose something about the mask and mystery had been the peak of it all for most people, but you being a new competitor and them being a seasoned veteran in these blood sports had been intimidating.

Yet, they’d welcomed you kindly, even explaining to you any questions you’d anxiously had like ship rotations or how the compound worked. Even sillier ones like if the food in the fridge was fair game or if you were about to get a wingman between your eyes the second your fingers tapped a lid.

You suppose you’d fallen for their kindness first. Out of the ring, that’s all they were. Around the compound they would help prepare meals with  Makoa in the kitchen, or sometimes you’d catch them sitting on the couch in the loungeroom with Crypto’s cat- Isabella Marie- perched on their lap and purring up a storm. They exuded this kind, soft energy, speaking coolly and calmly. Yet sometimes you’d catch them laugh, feel your heart constrict, and weigh in on those emotions. Wondering if something would become of them.

Now? Well, you didn’t have to do any wondering at all.

Now, you could so much as walk up to them and they would set their book off to the side and extend their arms out to you so you could clamber into their lap, nestled into their arms. Now, you could hook pinkies with them quietly and know they would follow you back to your bedroom. Now, they would cup your face adoringly, even if you couldn’t see past the lenses of their goggles in the ring. Now, you’d wake up to pecks of kisses on your face in the same pattern: Forehead, nose, one on each cheek, and on your chin before finally capturing your lips.

Now, now when you two were alone, you memorized every shape of their body with your lips.

You knew you were lucky being able to catch them like you had. Other legends had explained to you that Bloodhound, for at least three seasons, had taken to wearing their gear around the compound. Heavy full gear, mask and all, without wanting to mingle much with anyone. You’d been told that they were still kind, still calm, yet they seemed skittish like a cat. Only taking to talking to their ravens, Arthur and Munnin, whilst dodging everyone else besides the polite head nod of acknowledgement another legend’s way.

Yet when you’d come, after a few weeks of them seeming to disappear, you’d find them out in the compound elsewhere. With a lower face mask on of some sort, whether just a fashionable fabric piece or something akin to their respirator but looking more...punk-like. Regardless, you’d seen more than you had expected to ever in your life.

And now, you knew every bit of them as the back of your hand. Every tattoo, every scar, every clouded pattern of vitiligo etched into their flesh. Every piercing, every jump of their cooled skin, every ticklish spot that made them squirm and push at you with laughter buzzing through their veins. Every snarl they’d release if you teased them too much.

You suppose you were an even bigger menace than you’d thought you might be. You just loved to push their buttons sometimes, just to see their reactions. They were always cool and calm under pressure, so patient. But sometimes...

Sometimes you liked to see them break.

Often times it was things like tickling them. Or trying to get their attention when they were reading. Or things like kissing their neck, waiting until you felt the feeling of their fingers flexing on your hips and the low growl in their throat before you’d wiggle yourself out and dart away. That is, if they didn’t catch onto your game quickly and held you in place.

You liked to see their eyes turn dangerous, to hear them growl and to threaten you lowly. Often times you’d hear a snarl in your ear if you were teasing, their voice lowly murmuring to you, “Careful, little one, you are playing a dangerous game.” As if that wouldn’t just make you soaked and want to play this little game even more.

Maybe if they stopped having such good reactions you wouldn’t feel the need to do  these sorts of things .

Like now.

Now, you two were a duo in the blistering heat of King’s Canyon. And well, you’re not exactly behaving yourself. Not like you promised to, anyway.

Everything Bloodhound has said to you, you’ve had something to say back. They ping a location and gesture with a, “I have chosen our next location for battle.”? You have something to counter it. Whether it’s with telling them you’re going to loot at a nearby location on the way, or that you think your best new location will be juuuuuust fifty meters to the right of where they originally pinged.

Or if they tell you to heal up, even if it’s just that small amount you have missing from your shields, you’ll sigh dramatically and go, “So bossy today, Hound.” And though they may not reply to you, you can see how their head tips towards you. You can feel their eyes behind their lenses sizing you up, as if trying to be sure this is the game you want to play. Right here. Right now.

When Bloodhound starts to test their theories, you know it’s working. When you’re talking idly and they tell you to shush just to see if you’ll backtalk when normally you’re a perfectly obedient partner even in the ring. When you whine back at them with a reply insinuating you would NOT shut up, you know their cogs are turning. 

It isn’t until there’s ten squads left and Bloodhound tells you to pick up the pace in your casual walk do you say the final words that finally breaks them.

“Make me.”

You can practically hear the string snap between you two. You watch their back for the signs of their shoulders rising, the tightening of their hands on their weapon. You feel utter glee when you hear them take a slow, deep breath and let it out as if trying to compose themself. You near about squirm where you stand as you both take a pause, your boots sinking into the mud of the quiet, chirping swamps around you.

You really think they’re going to maintain their control, watching them roll their neck and slouch their shoulders as they compose themself. It almost disappoints you, an apology starting to curl in your chest when you start to think maybe they weren’t in the mood.

But then, they turn right back around, marching towards you and grabbing the back of your shirt to drag you into one of the buildings in the back. The cameras don’t normally lie around the edges of King’s Canyon, no one normally  trudges the edges around here and the ring doesn’t close on the edges either. The cameras focus on more action filled areas.

But...the idea of being caught still makes your belly flutter.

Bloodhound, normally kind and composed, snarls as they push you into the building. Your back hits the corner wall, a giggle bubbling from your throat in delight at their roughness as they stalk closer. Your laughter comes to a halt when their petite, strong frame presses to yours, their thigh shoving its way between yours. One of their gloved hands rests by your body to press to the wall, the other grabbing your jaw roughly.

They force you to look at them, seeing your reflection in their lenses and seeing your own flushed face is embarrassing. You let out a soft noise, eyes fluttering when your hips roll down against their thigh out of habit. Your cock is engorged by now, pressing against your pants’ zipper line and making you shudder at the sensation.

“You have been a brat today.” They murmur, their voice even and  inquisitive almost, as if they’re mocking you in a way. Bloodhound gently tilts your head down, forcing you to follow where they move you and you whimper as they grip your jaw a little harder. “Do you wish for me to make an example of you? Here?”

You try to nod, but find yourself unable to move. Your throat constricts, the words too embarrassing to admit so all you do is make this soft sound akin to an embarrassed squeak. Something you wish didn’t come out of you- you sounded like a frightened bunny.

“Your words, little one.” Bloodhound once again repeats, their voice even toned. And it occurs to you why quickly- they're asking your consent. If this is what you were aiming for and wanted. They were always so kind, making sure this was mutually wanted, even if sometimes you wished they didn’t ask and would just rip at your clothes and take what they wanted.

“Yes! Yes, fuck, Hound- yes. I was trying t-to--” Your voice waivers into a moan when their thigh presses up higher against you, your hips grinding across it like a desperately horny animal. Like a dog, you think, with an embarrassed reflection back on a few nights ago where you wore a collar.

“Trying to test my patience?” They help you finish, their grip easing on your jaw and leaving pleasant throbbing where they’d gripped. “Trying to get punished in the arena, where you could be caught?” They press to you, watching as you helplessly babble ’yes, yes, yes’ as you rock against their thigh.

Pathetic.

“You are now so eager to be obedient, my love, what has changed?” Bloodhound’s voice is a tease, thicker with the respirator on and seeming to give an edge to their voice. Your toes curl in your boots, rocking your hips back and forth across their helpfully supplied thigh. It’s almost too much friction between your pants and the thick fabric of theirs. You let out a  high-pitched moan, turning your head to the side to expose your neck and hearing them swear under their own breath at the sight of blatant submission.

When they huff, you hope they’re giving in. Praying they’ll spare you the teasing and the delicious tone of their voice that blesses your ears like liquid sex. You whimper when their hand slides down your body, pressing on your chest to tell you without a word to stay still. Bloodhound carefully moves their leg from where you’re desperately humping, another thing that causes you to whine, but they shush you gently. 

A tug at the fly of your pants and the undoing of your belt makes your insides flutter. Even more when you hear them unstrapping the  velcro of their glove, moving to tuck it into their pocket.

Their bare, cool fingers tug your underwear down with your pants to mid-thigh. You keep your legs spread like they left you, enough for their hand to slide down your lower abdomen, teasing at the mound of your curls before fingers slip down to frame your cock. You gasp sharply, hips pushing forward, but their other, gloved hand keeps rested on your chest to keep you back against the wall.

“Behave.” They remind you, their voice a low tone that makes you shudder. You immediately stop trying to press, feeling your patience slimming and your hope brightening that maybe, just maybe they’d have mercy on you.

Bloodhound’s fingers dip into your natural slick, drawing back upwards to your engorged cock. They frame it between two of their fingers, gently jerking as the hand on your chest makes to tuck under your shirt. It travels up, briefly feeling along one of the crescent shaped scars under your chest before gently pressing so they may thumb at your pierced nipple. Your head  thunks back on the wall at the sensation, your hips naturally humping into their hand desperately with each tug.

“Fuck- Hound, please, God, please- fingers—in-inside, please, please,  ** please ** -” You babble mindlessly, wishing so badly you could kiss them. Wishing so much you could cling to them, but you know better, keeping your hands flat to the wall behind you, fingers scrabbling against the wood at the sensations. Reminding you of where you are. That if anyone decided to take a pause in swamps, you could get caught.

“Inside? So greedy, little one. And to think just moments ago you were being a brat.” They chide you playfully, a cock to their head that reminds you of a dog and makes your heart flutter at the familiarity of it.

Soon, they move their body to rest more in front of you, pinching and tugging at your nipple as their fingers dip down to curl inside of you. Two fingers press at your hole, easily slipping inside and their palm pressing to your cock.

Your legs are quaking with the effort to keep yourself up. You already feel so close with their fingers curling and fucking inside of you. It doesn’t help with the sensitivity of your chest. Your body is shaking, aching from standing up as they work their talented fingers into you. To make matters worse they abandon your chest. Sliding their gloved hand down until they can bend their wrist that’s fingering you to make room for their other hand to gently tug your cock with their thumb and index finger. The roughness of their gloves eased by the slick you produce.

It leaves their hand pressing up against your g-spot perfectly with the angle of their fingers. You can feel your wetness dripping down their hand, vaguely hearing the soft snarls hinting that they’re enjoying the sight. It makes your body feel even warmer with the flush spreading across your chest.

Their voice finally makes your eyes flutter open to look at them helplessly. You can hear the grin in their tone as they begin, “Are you close, my love?” When you nod helplessly, they make a soft, sympathetic noise at you, rolling your little cock between their fingers gently just to make you sob out. “It is a pity you were such a spoiled brat today.”

Wait. What?

Shit- no!

Your confirmation comes when their hand moves from your cock, their fingers still fucking into you with your slick sloppily dripping down onto their wrist. You whimper out at the loss on your cock, but you could still get off like this- if they weren’t slowing down and only rubbing- COME ON!

“Aw, you look so pitiful, my love. Perhaps if you had not been such  _ smá _ __ _ skítur _ you would not be feeling this loss now.” They continue, fake sympathy edging their tone as their talented fingers quirk upwards to still keep you interested, rubbing at your frontal walls. It still makes you twitch, feeling like you’re riding the edge of those desperate waves as tears prick your eyes.

They continue, “You may choose. You may cum now,” You whimper at the thought, but they continue as if you hadn’t made a sound. “Or you may get properly bred later. When you have surely decided you shall be an obedient pup for me.” 

Oh, that isn’t  **_ fair _ ** .

But you manage to, against all odds, sob out, “I want to be good for you!” And near about cry at the loss of their fingers. But when they drag them up to your face and nudge at your lips, you part your lips obediently, suckling and licking their fingers clean with a shy glance at the lenses of their goggles.

“Good pup.” Bloodhound praises you, and you feel that maybe you did the right thing deciding to wait.

Even if it’s hell when they help you pull your clothing back on, fixing up their gloves and directing you on where to go again. You’re so engorged and wet that each movement feels like hell. And you know they know, knowing they could just smell you inches away, lingering on their skin.

Torture for you both.

\--

You two end up in second place, Lifeline and Mirage take championship. Elliott is as perky as ever about it, happily yelling about celebrating with an afterparty at his bar. He’s so friendly and joyous, talking about free drinks as he throws his arms around you and Ajay’s shoulders, that you have to accept. Even if you’re thinking about how hopeful you are for Bloodhound to finish the job from earlier.

You can only hope that they won’t take the time to tease you all night at the bar and will drag you off back to one of your rooms and give you what they promised.

The idea of being dragged off in a hurry makes you squirm. You liked when they were desperate, it happened so few times. Whether it was to see you under them or if they were needy and finally let you touch them for the night. The idea of being on your knees and tasting them makes you squirm in your seat at the bar now. Rubbing your thighs together and slowly exhaling through your nose to try and relax your nerves.

You hadn’t touched the drink Elliott had given to you. Instead, you were more focused on trying to find Bloodhound. Parties weren’t their scene, but they did enjoy the company, as they had told you. They said they were coming, and in the back of your mind you knew they were here. You just had that feeling around you.

You knew when you were being watched.

It sends shivers down your spine pleasantly, feeling all too like you were playing the role of prey. Your eyes scan over the tables, the bar, trying to find the familiar red hair or glasses. But, nothing.

If they wanted to be found, you would have found them. It was that simple.

“Ey, buddy! What’s up, don’t like your drink? I can make you something new?” Elliott’s voice snaps you out of your scanning as you turn to your right to see him beaming at you. There’s a tinge of anxiety in his eyes, and you offer a smile back to try and aid in it.

“No! No, not that at all. I think I actually have a bit of a headache. Do you have anywhere quiet I can be for a little?” You offer, feigning a wince as you press your hand to your temple. Understanding immediately crosses his kind eyes as he scoots out of the booth to allow you to get out.

“Yeah! Of course, the backroom should be nice and quiet for- for you! There’s some pills under the bar if it gets too  unbe — uneb — unber —if it gets too painful.” He manages to get out, beaming all the way through it. You can’t help it, his smiles are too infectious, feeling yourself smiling back and thanking him. Briefly forgetting the whole  reason you were trying to escape was because you didn’t know where your predator of a spouse was.

You’re still aching between your legs. The memory had carried with you all day. Even when you changed into more casual clothes of a big hoodie and torn up jeans. You’d considered taking the time to get yourself off, but with your luck, Bloodhound would have known somehow and prolonged touching you.

You’re mindlessly thinking, unaware of your surroundings as you head to the backroom. It’s a darker room with a few dim red lights keeping it lit up. There’s a couch on either side of the room and a big round table in the center with a few chairs stacked in the corner of the room. There’s another bar in here, but it looks more set up for coffee and snacks than drinking.

As soon as you cross the  threshold to get inside, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Instantly you feel your hood being snatched, pushing you forward with the sound of the door being shut and locked behind you heard. You yelp in surprise from the push, grabbing onto the table you were thrust towards and feeling a body crowd up behind you.

“You look frightened, beloved.” Comes Bloodhound’s voice behind you, their voice a low purr. Your shoulders immediately relax, but then they stiffen right back up when a hand reaches around to curl around your throat. They don’t squeeze, just holding you to their smaller body. Their other hand sneaks under your hoodie, wasting no time as they start to undo your pants, pulling them down to mid-thigh roughly. “Were you looking for me?”

“Y-yes- are you seriously trying to fuck me in the- ah!” Your tease is cut off when they shove your boxers down. Their hands are covered with fingerless leather gloves, making the smooth glide of their cool fingers all the sweeter when their thumb and forefinger gently squeeze your cock. They roll it between their fingers, sliding their palm back on your mound to force the hood to slide back to reveal it in its fullness.

“You did not seem shy at the implication of such acts in the arena.” They murmur behind you, their chin tucking over your shoulder from the way your back is arched, allowing them to reach. Bloodhound hums as your fingers grip tighter on the table, knowing they’re watching you making it all the worse. Your face burns, your body humming with sensitivity from your delayed orgasm earlier.

You’re completely soaked, even after the shower you’d had earlier. You feel sticky and messy on their fingers as they jerk you off. The feeling of their other hand squeezing at the sides of your throat lightly in a claiming fashion only leaving you messier. A low whine leaves you, your hips pressing forward and body already shaking.

“Ah, you do not wish to make too much noise, little one. There are worse things that could happen than to be caught on camera.” They tease you, lips brushing your ear to murmur lowly and you feel heat roll down your spine. Your mind flickers to a shameful fantasy of being on a leash, surrounded by others while Bloodhound praises you-

Your hips press back into them as a wave of pleasure  signals you’re already close. You’re vaguely aware that the front of their pants isn’t flat, but rather bulged out slightly with something hard and pliable.

Your face burns when you realize their intentions weren’t to tease you now and fuck you at home later. They wanted you here, like this.

Vulnerable.

Bloodhound’s teeth tease the lobe of your ear with a nip, murmuring quietly to you. “You may cum as many times as you like. You were so good for me. A good dog.” Their voice is hot against your flesh. It’s all too much.

As soon as your lips part to scream out, their hand on your throat raises quickly to smack over your mouth. They press you back against their body as you cum, your body convulsing and your legs shaking as they gently jerk you through it. Their mouth has gone to your neck instead, kissing and sucking a hickey into your flesh there as they tip your head slightly to the side to have better access.

You’re dizzy after you cum, your hips fucking against their hand without you even thinking about it. You vaguely are aware of them cooing to you, feeling their hand leaving your oversensitive cock to tug your boxers and jeans down a bit lower. You pathetically whimper behind their hand, but that soon changes when they’re pushing you down onto the table. Your front pressed flat and your ass exposed for them.

“Color?” Bloodhound murmurs to you, their hand sliding down along your clothing covered back until they reach the swell of your ass. You hear the tell-tale sound of them removing their glove before their cool fingers return to you, cupping your ass but not moving. 

“Green.” You chirp back in a hazy, dreamy tone. You go so far as to shake your ass a little, resulting in them playfully swatting in a manner that doesn’t hurt. You grin faintly, but turn your head and pout before they can start up again. “Can I get a kiss?”

For a moment, the air shifts from predator and prey to gentle. They laugh softly, the sound warming your heart with the honey tone of their voice. “Yes, my love. But do not distract me any more.” Before they lean over you and to the side where you’ve got your lips pouted and head turned to the side, meeting them in a sloppy, chaste kiss.

You whine at them for more, but they peck your nose instead. Only allowing you to get a brief glance at them with their lower face mask tugged around their neck, their red lensed glasses resting lower on their nose, and their hair pulled into a fluffy ponytail.

The air shifts again as they get back into character. You keep yourself flat to the table as they keep a hand to your back to press you there. Their other hand trails down your ass, fitting between your legs and teasing two fingers at your hole. When they easily slip in, they coo at you in a mocking tone, “So eager even now. You are so wet, beloved.”

You nod immediately, murmuring pleads as they curl and stretch their fingers inside of you. When they fit in three, you’re on your tiptoes, absolutely positive you’re drooling on your hoodie’s arm. You sob out when they twist their fingers, spreading them apart to scissor them into you to make room for a fourth finger. That’s when you make sure to bury your face into your arms, your voice starting to spill out of you without permission.

“Look at you, you poor thing,” They coo at you again, mock sympathy in their tone as they finger fuck you. “How noisy you are. It is almost as if you wish to be caught.”

You try to shake your head, resulting in the hand that was resting on your back to curl into your hair. They yank your head back, keeping you from burying into your arms as moans pour from your lips. Your face immediately flushes, both your hands flying to your mouth as your eyes about cross when they pick up the pace.

You cum again from their fingers alone, your body trembling as you press hard over your mouth to muffle your sobs. Your breathing is heavy through your nose, heard shakily through each exhale. They finally let go of your hair, letting your body go forward so you could bury into your arms again.

When Bloodhound’s fingers leave you, you hear them unzipping their own pants. You stay perfectly still, hearing the uncap of lubricant and the wet noise of them sliding it onto their cock. You can’t see which one they have strapped on today, but you have a feeling you knew if they had to use four fingers to get you ready. Especially when they take their fingers covered in lube this time to fit inside of you, gently fucking them into you for a few thrusts before pulling away.

It’s one of their bigger dildos, that much you can feel. The tapered tip tells you it’s one of their werewolf dildos. The knot was as thick as their fist, the rest of the length going from three to about four fingers thick. They let the head press to your hole, their hands grabbing your hips once it presses in and guiding you into taking it.

Each press is a stretch, but once you’re finally able to take it down to the beginning of the knot, that’s when they start to fuck you. Their hips slam back against you, the knot pressing at your hole but unable to enter without their aid. You’re a mess when they wrap their hand back around your throat, pulling you up to their chest as they fuck up into you with soft growls. You keep one hand over your mouth to try and be quiet, going cross eyed when their other hand reaches down to start jerking you off in time with their thrusts.

You think you’ve died and gone to Heaven in the form of Bloodhound fucking you. They’re murmuring by your ear in their mother tongue, words you can make out from constantly hearing them being ‘good’ and ‘my love’ and ‘little one’. But soon their voice dies out, more focused on biting and sucking dark bruises along your neck. Going high enough to just under your ear so you couldn’t hide them.

The wet slapping between you two sounds much louder in this smaller room. The creaking of the table doing no favors to hide your muffled cries. You’re so overstimulated you’d almost forgotten you weren’t in the safety of your own home.

When Bloodhound finally unlatches from your throat, they’re growling in your ear now. They rarely get filthy except for occasions like this. Murmuring between each thrust, “Do you wish for me to breed you, little pup?” The hand that had been jerking you off comes up, pressing to your lower abdomen and making you dizzy at the idea. “How beautiful you will be swollen with my pups.”

A  high-pitched noise leaves you in reply, squirming on their cock as Bloodhound starts to slam a little harder, feeling the knot pressing at you and stretching you. You whimper, shaking your head and crying into your hand, “C-can’t! I can’t- it won’t fit- Hound, please, I’m so close-” You start to sob out, but they shush you.

“You can take it.” They promise without a second beat, yanking you back against them as they press insistently forward until you start to widen around it. Your free hand scrabbles at the table for purchase. “You  ** will  ** take it.”

And you do, with one more thrust of their hips as the knot pops into you. It’s all too much when their hand returns to your cock, letting you hump pathetically into their palm as you cum this time. Vaguely you’re aware of the feeling of being full too, and you know they had a cum tube attached to this cock but you didn’t think they’d use it.

When you’re done and properly fucked, you flop belly down onto the table with your knees weak. You’re panting, sweaty, a mess. You can feel them pull out of you, a grunt leaving you when you feel a smaller object being inserted into your hole. Your boxers and pants are pulled up, an affectionate double smack left on your ass that makes you softly laugh.

“A plug,” Bloodhound speaks as if reading your questioning mind, their hand going under your hoodie to soothingly rub your back in a way that makes you immediately content. “ So you do not spill a single drop. I am not through with you.”

You whine a reply, not trusting your voice to speak. You go pliantly as you’re lifted up, tossed over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes and brought to one of the couches. Gently, you’re set in their lap sideways, allowing you to curl your face into their neck and nuzzle there affectionately. You’re vaguely aware of them rubbing your back in circles, tipping their head to press a gentle kiss to  your forehead.

“Mmmh- Hound?” You start softly, nosing at their neck affectionately.

“Yes, my love?”

“Can I have another kiss now?”

Bloodhound lets out a whoosh of breathy laughter at that. Watching you adjust to sit up a little before they gently cup your cheek, stroking over your cheekbone as their eyes linger on your lips for just a moment. You can feel their breath fanning across your lips just before they meet in a soft, gentle kiss.

When they break apart, you whine out, “Another!”  Again, and again until they’re attacking your face with little pecks all over until you’re squealing with laughter.

How you loved them.


End file.
